Arya furrowed his brow as he listened to the words that called him an old martial artist with a youthful face. Instantly, he responded with a teasing remark, unable to resist the provocation.“You call me an old martial artist? Old in the head, maybe! Have you not seen this taut skin of mine?” he said with a wry smirk.Adyaksa was taken aback once again. With each passing moment, he became more certain that the opponent they were about to face was no ordinary fighter. Even when he whispered more quietly than before, his words could still be heard clearly.“Enough talking!” Wojo barked irritably, noticing the hesitation written all over Adyaksa’s face. “If we can’t capture him alive, then killing him won’t matter!”As if spurred by Wojo’s outburst, Adyaksa and Kuruseta stepped forward, closing the distance until they stood level with the muscular old man before them.Wojo signaled to his companions, instructing them to release the dense killing aura from their bodies, a potent force me

A piercing scream shattered the calm of the forest night, echoing through the dense trees like a jagged knife slicing through the silence. Adyaksa’s desperate hope to survive was brutally crushed, as he had no choice but to follow the fate of Wojo and Kuruseta, who had already departed to meet the God of Death.Without an ounce of pity, Arya tore into the old man’s back with relentless force, so deep that his bones were exposed. Blood gushed violently from the open wound, soaking the forest floor in a vivid, dark crimson that mirrored the night itself.Yet Arya did not pause to feel any relief. Not far from the scene where Adyaksa had met his end, a figure moved swiftly toward him. It was Siswantoro, who had heard the scream while searching for his three senior disciples.At first, Arya thought the approaching figure was Suprana, but upon closer inspection, he noticed differences in speed and the distinct red garments the man wore. He realized that this was someone else entirely—someo

Arya could feel energy seething from the black-flamed blade in his opponent’s hand. The air around the sword seemed to shimmer with heat and a strange, oppressive force. Wiswantoro, alert and wary, moved with extra caution—his reserves had been significantly drained by the earlier exchange of blows.“What does it matter whether you know who I am or not?” Arya said with a mocking smile, his tone clipped. He watched the black staff in Wiswantoro’s grip, recognizing it for what it was: a weapon formed from concentrated inner energy.“Why do I attack your sect?” Arya continued, his voice hardening. “Because you aided that brutal prince who seeks to seize the Pamenang throne. That is reason enough. I have no time to parley with you any longer, scoundrel. Prepare to meet the God of Death.” His final words cracked like a whip as he readied himself.At last Wiswantoro understood the young warrior’s motive. Still, the elder’s mind spun with questions: how could the Pamenang kingdom harbor a ma

“Dragon Hunter Sword!”Arya leapt high, then shot forward in a spinning arc, the tip of his blade aiming straight at Jambul Geni — who from the start had been reluctant to continue the fight.“Watch out!” Darmo Weling shouted, trying to warn him.Jambul Geni knew the strike was coming, but he did not have the speed to evade it. Wounds across his body made his movements sluggish and heavy. Reluctantly he brought his sword up to parry the incoming blow.Two treasured weapons met with a thunderous collision. The impact rang out loud, the air around them crackling as two different currents of energy clashed. Jambul Geni staggered backward; his body could not withstand the force Arya poured into the strike. His hands trembled violently and pain shot through him from head to toe from the shock of the explosion that accompanied the blow.The short, round-bellied man tried to channel inner energy to steady himself, but Arya showed no mercy—there would be no reprieve, no moment to breathe. The

The King’s Condition“If I may ask, what illness is afflicting His Majesty?” Arya inquired politely, glancing briefly at Suprana, who was returning to their table after ordering their meal.“The palace guards say that His Majesty’s health has worsened over the past three days,” replied the old healer, his tone calm yet troubled.“Could it be because of his age, Elder?” Arya asked again, stealing a glance at Suprana, who had just taken a seat beside him.“I don’t think so,” the old man replied thoughtfully. “By my estimation, the King is barely over sixty years old, and he has never suffered from any serious illness before.”“I see. Then may he recover quickly,” said Arya with a gentle tone.The old healer smiled warmly at him. “You don’t sound like someone from this city, young man. Are you perhaps a merchant?”“I’m just a wanderer,” Arya replied. “But how did you know that I’m not from Dahanapura?”The old man chuckled softly. “I’ve lived here since before the capital was relocated.